Him And Her, Not Me

“Hey Tasha!” I say, hoping that maybe, for once, somebody would respond to my cries to be accepted.

Tasha and I have been friends since preschool. Then around fifth grade, we started to drift. She became popular, I became.. this. This normal, average, ugly girl with contacts that made my only good feature pop – my shimmering blue eyes.

Tasha smiles, as to not appear harsh to her “fans”. Once she was close enough to me, she opened her eyes wide, as to say, “Don’t talk to me, there’s people around.”


I don’t know why I even try to be friends with her. She’s self-centered, snobby..

But then, he passed by. He was the only one nice to her in the entire school, but then again, he was generally nice to everybody. He still made an effort though – that was enough for me to fall head-over-heels for him.

He starts to smile his gorgeous smile, but then Tasha uses the whole, oops-I-accidently-bumped-into-you-and-dropped-my-books-for-you-to-notice-me trick.

I cry on my way to Math.

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